Susan LaffertyOn a drive. After rain. Mist and fog still hang in the air. Limiting the view ahead.
But our eyes glance to the sides of the road. And we see. The beauty of timing.
Revealed. All along the way. Shining in the dark. Through woods, green and deep.
Dogwood in bloom.
Airport chairs. In the transit area.
Exhaustion weighs heavy in this middle place. This confined space.
And after the 17-hour flight across the Pacific, we mark time. Until boarding begins. For our next destination.
No longer living in the former place. Not yet setting foot in the new space. Caught in between.
Transit.
Our firstborn was 14 weeks old when we moved overseas. En route to Pakistan.
The week before we left America, I held her close and wept. Quietly. With the door shut. In the bedroom at my in-laws’ home.
I asked the Lord, “What are we doing to our little girl?”
The weight of leaving what we knew and going to the unknown hit me hard that day as I rocked Becca in my arms.
But we finished packing our trunks and suitcases. Then boarded the Thai Airways flight across the ocean.
